


What's sexier than wizards NOTHING

by Dweebspace



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Critical Role Spoilers, M/M, Now with added E-rated chapter, Romance, Wizards, caleb and essek do magical nerd stuff together, magic is caleb's love language, what's sexier than wizards NOTHING, wizard feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dweebspace/pseuds/Dweebspace
Summary: “Is this still you wanting to do magic?” Essek asks. There is a vulnerability to his voice that Caleb hasn’t heard before from the shadowhand, though he recognizes it. Fear of rejection. Fear of being used. Fear of being a means to an end.“No,” he says, “This is you. You are very clever and very attractive.” He clears his throat. “This is me wanting you.”Or, Essek has ideas. Caleb can't get that out of his head.Or, Post-episode 91 wizard feelings. Now with added E-rated chapter
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Caleb Widogast & Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Nott & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 59
Kudos: 929





	1. What's sexier than wizards NOTHING

_ Essek has ideas.  _

The thought keeps returning to the forefront of Caleb’s mind, like a ghost of a touch, and yet with the crystal clarity of his perfect memory. The shadowhand’s voice as quiet and slow as it always is, ringing in his ears. 

“I have some ideas.” Essek had said. Thoughtfully. Tentatively. Surely, the throwaway sentence should’ve gotten lost between the excitement of finishing the spell and the rush of emotions when it hadn’t worked and Nott had remained as she was. 

Caleb glances at her, fast asleep just next to his knees. Frumpkin, somehow, has made himself comfortable in the hollow of her admittedly small torso, but then again Frumpkin is a cat and Caleb has seen him fit into weirder spaces. 

He shakes his head. He should sleep. They have things to do tomorrow - important things like finding the creature that cursed Nott and blocked Caleb’s magic and finding Cadeuces’ extended family. Caleb mentally adds a question mark behind ‘extended family’. 

_ What kind of ideas, though?  _

Working on the spell had been… nothing short of glorious. There is no other word in his arsenal that describes it better. Working with Nott has always been a joy, but the addition of Essek and his similar but still  _ different _ approach had been twice the pleasure. A pleasure he hasn’t experienced since, well - since Astrid and Eodwulf. 

Caleb opens his eyes again and frowns at the ceiling. It feels strange, comparing the two experiences, but it’s the closest approximation he has. Still, it is the difference between art-forms, where working on magic at the academy had been like carving stone, or building machines; but what’d happened in Essek’s laboratory had felt like painting, or even like baking.  _ Creating _ something beautiful, collaboratively. 

Whatever it was, if Caleb is honest with himself, it was addicting and he can already feel himself craving more of it. Instant understanding with just a look, finishing each other’s sentences, watching something come to life between their hands. 

Something that would  _ help _ , something that would create something, rather than destroy it. While it might not have worked and part of Caleb wants to blame himself for it, logically he knows that it was the curse that blocked the magic, not any flaw in the spell itself. And the thought that his magic can help… he feels like Cadeuces could say something really deep and comforting about it. Though, perhaps, he will discuss it with Beau, as he is fairly certain that if something could knock his thoughts straight it’s her blunt honesty. It’s a toss-up between comforting, yet confusing advice and receiving honest advice that, somehow, will probably gain sexual connotations.

And isn’t that just a thought. 

* * *

He ends up discussing it with Yasha. 

“Well,” she says, as she mulls it over during their watch, “I don’t know much about magic, but I can understand wanting something because it makes you feel good. Does it make you feel good?” 

They’re sitting in front of their small campfire, both having volunteered for the second watch. Caleb stares at the flames, thinking about how to formulate his answer. 

“It does,” he says, eventually, “but there are multiple sides to it. I like it because it  _ isn’t _ the magic I was taught was powerful, because it isn’t harmful-” 

“But it  _ could _ be, though, couldn’t it?” Yasha interjects. Caleb looks at her, startled. He watches, for a moment, as the shadows of the flames dance over her face in a way that makes him feel vaguely queasy. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you could do the spell without someone’s consent, right? That’s what Essek said.” 

Caleb is quiet for a while. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” 

“But you don’t think it is,” she continues carefully, phrasing the statement almost like a question. 

“No.” 

Why is that? Yasha is right, the spell could absolutely do harm. How was that not an option before...? 

“Because you would never use it like that.” She answers his thought, with absolute certainty. 

Caleb smiles, faintly, as he pulls his coat tighter around himself, hugging his own arms. She’s right; he hadn't even thought of the spell in that context. He would  _ never _ , never intentionally, do something so incredibly invasive and permanent to someone without their explicit consent. 

_ And neither would Essek _ , some part of him knows. Wishes.  _ Hopes _ , perhaps. 

“What’s the other part?” Yasha asks. 

“Hmm?” Caleb leaves that train of thought to look at her again. He’s always a little surprised that someone like Yasha, who is so strong and intimidating at times, can look as soft as she does now, looking at him with a gentle smile. 

“You said there were more sides to it,” she clarifies, “What is the other side?” 

“I- erm…” He clears his throat. “I suppose I also like it so much because I did it with Nott. You know. I trust her.” Perhaps more than he has ever trusted anyone in his life, Astrid and Eodwulf included. 

“And Essek?” 

“And Essek.” 

He does not elaborate. Yasha seems at peace with that. 

They wake Fjord and Cadeuces for the last shift. 

“Goodnight Yasha. Danke schön.”

“Goodnight, Caleb.” 

* * *

“Essek has ideas,” is what he tells Beau, when she grills him, inevitably, about where he is going, “And we owe him some favors still, ja?”

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll come with you? You don’t have to clear our debt yourself, we all owe him favors!” Beau says, “And I really wanna snoop more, I could do that if you distract him with your nerd shit.”

Caleb is tempted. As abrasive as she is, Beau has become almost like a social buffer to him over the last few months. It’s as though, along with Undercommon, she has gained the ability to speak Caleb, as well as an understanding that, sometimes, she has to translate things both ways. Not today, though.    
  
“I thought you were going to help Nott do research on innate transformative abilities in monsters and creatures,” he counters.    
  
“Yeah, and I still don’t understand why you’re not coming with us, man. This is like, your jam. We’re researching magic. Transformation magic, Caleb. Magic that transforms things. The kind of magic that pertains to the transing of form!”

“Ja, I get it!” he says, interrupting the bizarre stream of consciousness coming out of Beau’s mouth. “But divide and conquer, yes? Essek helped us finish that spell, he could help us with this, too. It’s worth a shot.”

Beau shoots him a weirdly suspicious look but lets it go. “Alright, fine. Have fun with your new research buddy.”

“Hey, hey!” he pulls her back from where she was about to storm off to. “Mein gott, Beauregard. You will always be my ‘research buddy’. I am simply pursuing another avenue. We’ll need help if we want to get this done.” 

Beau physically relaxes. “Alright,  _ alright _ , fine. You can let go of me now.”

He quickly drops his hands. She crosses her arms defensively. 

“Just be careful, alright? I still don’t trust him when I’m sober.”

Caleb smiles, fondly. “I’m always careful.”

Beau scoffs. 

* * *

He ends up staring at the towers that are Essek’s home for a while before he enters. He berates himself for not asking Jester to send the shadowhand a message, to announce his visit, but the man seems little but pleased to see Caleb. 

“I did not anticipate you would visit so soon,” he admits, as they walk up the strange, glass-like stairs, “You all seemed rather preoccupied when I came by yesterday.”

“We are, yes,” Caleb replies, “A lot that needs doing.”

“Then why are you here?” Essek asks as he stops, in the middle of the bridge that leads to his laboratory. “I mean no offense, but if you have better things to do.”

“There are always other things to do,” Caleb replies, braver than he feels, “But I am here.”

“That you are.”   
  
They continue to the laboratory. 

“You said you had ideas,” Caleb begins, as he takes off his coat and hangs it neatly over one of the chairs present in the room. “Ideas to-” he searches for the right common word for a second, “pay back a favor.”

Essek looks at him and he can’t determine what it means, but being under Essek’s gaze makes him fidget with the hem of his shirt nervously. He can feel his face twitching into his nervous frown, as he rubs at his own arms. 

“Nothing that requires immediate action,” the shadowhand says, “I have many curiosities and many ideas, and not the time or luxury to address all of them the way I would wish. I’m sure you can relate.” He smiles knowingly. “There is no need to rush if there is business that requires your attention more immediately. I could help, perhaps. The last problem you presented proved to be quite rewarding.”

And there it is again. That  _ thing _ that Essek does, so frequently. Caleb frowns at him. “You don’t always have to help us,” he says, “ We were made your job by the Bright Queen, but we are friends now, ja?”

Essek seems taken aback. “I meant no insult-”

“I know!” Caleb corrects himself, “And it is wonderful I-”   
  
“I did not mean to assume-”

“You did not. I just want to help  _ you _ , for once.”

Essek falls quiet and they stare at each other from across the intricately carved room. Then, Essek laughs. 

“What is funny?” 

“We are,” says Essek, still smiling, “Look at us, both wanting to help but accepting no assistance.”

He makes a good point. Caleb exhales in a matching laugh. “That is true. I think… I think it is what I like about you.”

Essek raises a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“That your goal always seems to be to help us,” he clarifies, “Perhaps, like this; I would like to do magic.”

Essek relaxes, smiling again as he mimics Caleb’s actions earlier and removes his purple robe. He is wearing what Caleb assumes is the fancy, Xorhassian version of house wear; soft-looking black pants and a deep-purple tunic that is looser on him than anything Caleb has seen him wear so far. 

“Wasn’t that the point of this?” Essek asks, “To do magic?”

“Yes,” he agrees, “But I- we have been searching for Nott’s tormentor  _ for weeks _ , to no avail. Cadeuces’ riddles and family secrets and ancient histories have been bouncing in my brain so much it is giving me a headache. We will have to attend  _ peace talks  _ between two warring nations soon and then attend Traveler-con with Jester, in a  _ volcano _ and…” He sighs. “I just want to do magic. With you.”

Essek approaches him, and puts a hand, carefully, on Caleb’s arm. “Then magic we shall do.”

He walks, rather than floats, to the desk they had previously studied Hallas’ spell on. “I have spent some time with the luxon liquid you provided and I have some findings I’m sure you’ll find interesting.”

And so they do magic. Caleb bows over the table as Essek explains to him his findings from the extracted liquid and its potential applications, given the little he had been able to test from the admittedly small sample. It’s different, without Nott and her creative angles and, as of recently, focussed attitude, so they quickly move on from that into a more theoretical discussion of Dunamis and Essek’s work on a potential new Dunamancy spell. 

Essek breaks out the appropriate scrolls and books and an hour- two hours pass, as they work through Essek’s initial equation for it, and it’s just as intoxicating as Caleb remembers from the transformation spell. Caleb hands Essek the appropriate scrolls at a glance and Essek finishes several of Caleb’s thoughts excitedly, already turning pages on the book he’s holding to find the passage they need. There’s an ebb and flow to what they do, driven by a shared thirst of knowledge and Caleb feels himself relaxing more and more as they progress. Their hands fly in experimental casting; Essek’s in angular, precise movements, while Caleb’s weave rounder, more flowing shapes. It’s thrilling and familiar and wonderful.

It’s not perfect, of course, and perhaps due to Nott not being there to anticipate his flaws, one of Caleb’s hands knocks over the candle Essek lit to illuminate their work. It shocks Caleb back into reality and he snaps his fingers, reflexively, to extinguish the flame before it even hits the ground. 

“Entschuldigung,” he breathes, as soon as he straightens. 

“No harm was done,” Essek replies, “Perhaps a needed interruption.” He gestures, not to the window as someone in the Empire might have done, but to the clock in the corner of the room. Without looking, Caleb knows it’s been a few hours and it’s pushing closer to evening. 

“Perhaps,” he admits, reluctant. Something akin to adrenaline is still pumping through his veins and he feels as though he has just stopped dead in his tracks after running for miles, but with his  _ brain _ . 

Essek, too, seems a little out of breath, almost. “I suppose your friends will wonder where you are.” He walks closer to Caleb to summon the candle from the floor to his hands.    


There is ink on Essek’s cheek in the same shade as the ink on Caleb’s fingers. It is the easiest thing in the world to take the last step towards Essek and catch his lips with his as he turns his head.

Essek’s body goes perfectly still, for a torturously long second, before Caleb feels him relax and suddenly Essek is kissing him back, sealing their mouths together in a glorious clash of curiosities and it’s new and strange, and confusing as Caleb is still busy catching up with his own actions, but by the gods, it is good. He tilts his head, and presses closer to fit them together better and Essek’s lips are soft, but firm, and generous. Always generous.

Caleb hadn’t actively noticed that Essek is slightly shorter than him when he isn’t floating, but he notices now, as he brings his hands up to cup the man’s jaw and draw him even closer. The other man’s hands, in turn, find his waist and slip around it to his back. It sends shivers up Caleb’s spine and he gasps helplessly; a breath trembling from his lungs and then Essek opens his mouth and Caleb follows and their tongues slide together and it should feel like he somehow found himself in one of Jester’s smutty books, but it  _ doesn’t _ . It just feels right and lovely and absolutely nerve-wracking, of course, but good. So, so good. 

Essek’s body, like his spellcasting, is firm and angular, as it presses against Caleb’s and his shirt is as soft as he imagined it would be as he slides his hands down to Essek’s shoulders, allowing himself to touch. He has been trying, recently, to allow himself things. Nice things. Funny things. Lovely things. Some part of him isn’t sure he deserves the incredible thing that is Essek kissing him, gently moving his lips against his, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t  _ want _ this thing. So he turns them, to where Essek bumps into the desk that still has their papers and work on it and crowding him against it. 

He revels in the surprised moan that gets him and proceeds to kiss Essek, deeply and with all the desire and magic-adrenaline fueled confidence he has right now. His fingers curl into dark hair and he’s sure their respective hues clash, but he doesn’t have space in his mind to imagine that, right now. 

Essek seems to have no intention of simply yielding to Caleb’s explorations and pushes up against him. His mouth is hot and searching against Caleb’s and suddenly there is a shock of cold fingers as Essek’s hands find their way underneath his tunic and spread out over his lower back. 

Gods forsake his need for oxygen - Caleb gasps for air, as he unwillingly breaches their kiss. Both their chests rise and fall rapidly as they gaze at each other. Essek’s hair has fallen into his face and his hands are still on Caleb’s skin. 

“Is this still you wanting to do magic?” Essek asks. There is a vulnerability to his voice that he hasn’t heard before from the shadowhand, though he recognizes it. Fear of rejection. Fear of being used. Fear of being a means to an end. 

“No,” he says, “This is you. You are very clever and very attractive.” He clears his throat. “This is me wanting you.”

Essek smiles, his eyes looking at Caleb in a manner he can only describe as gentle. Essek leans his forehead against his, for a moment that seems to last for a small eternity, but is in fact only a few seconds. Then he finds himself suddenly turned around by unexpected strength and it is his turn to be pushed against the desk. 

He has the vague thought that he is never going to live this down once Beau finds out and that he should remember this detail to tell Jester if she should pester him about it to distract her before making an escape and then  _ Essek is kissing him again _ and he stops thinking. 


	2. (............nothing.....)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As expected, episode 92 completely wrecked anything set up in this fic so it’s an AU now while we wait for the inevitable conclusion to the ‘who is going to succesfully Romance Liam O’ Brian’ game! 
> 
> Thank you for the incredible response to the first chapter. Here are some more feelings and the promised porn as a massive thank you to this incredible community.

Kissing Essek, it turns out, is even more addictive than doing magic with Essek, and it’s why Caleb had stopped them eventually. 

Essek had understood. 

“Time is not everything, but it can be a good thing,” he’d said, and Caleb had nodded and he had smiled crookedly and he had left. He had left despite the softness of Essek’s shirt and the angle of his jaw and the tousled hair he was mostly responsible for tousling. 

He stares at the crooked chandelier of the inn they are in, only a part of his brain dedicated to attempting to keep up with the conversation around him. He’s mostly focussed on remembering. 

He’d told them, just then, because lying to the Mighty Nein, especially about something this important - well, it isn’t within Caleb’s capabilities anymore. 

He’d been afraid, of course, had mulled it over for quite a while and released all his anxieties and worst-case scenarios upon it, but his friends had surprised him. As they always did.

“So magic, with Essek,” Fjord had repeated, awkwardly, but with his distinct brand of attempting to understand. Caleb appreciated that he was trying.

“And  _ kissing! _ With  _ Essek! _ ” Jester had added, her chin in her hands as she stared at Caleb with a lewd, yet fond expression.    
  
“Yes… that, too,” Fjord had agreed, slowly. “Does it make you happy, Caleb?”

“Ja, I believe so.” 

“Well then, good,” had been Fjords conclusion. Such a simple answer with such complicated layers of meaning.

“You don’t- you don’t mind?” Caleb had asked them, all of them. He’d scanned their faces carefully, feeling eerily similar to the Caleb he’d been when he met them all those many months ago and was still trying to figure out if he could trust all of them. 

Jester had protested immediately, “Of course  _ not! _ ” in a tone that had made him feel like he’d just insulted her mother. 

“I suppose it’s like Caduceus and his garden,” Fjord had said quickly, “Or Jester and smutty books and pastries.” Jester had nodded enthousiastically, though Caleb doubted if they were entirely on the same page. He was grateful they were in the same book at all. “All of us have things we enjoy outside of our missions and the group. I don’t see why you shouldn’t.” 

Caduceus had smiled at him, in that gentle way of his. “Yeah.  _ Yeah. _ Fjord is right, you know, Mr. Caleb. What’s the point of saving a garden, if you don’t love the plants and flowers that are in it? It is not a distraction, no. A reminder, perhaps. Something to fight for, instead of against something else.”

Caleb hadn’t known what to say to that, but he’d smiled at all of them. “Thank you.”

“As long as the purple nerd knows that no dunamancy shit can save him from catching these fists if he’s an asshole.”

“I’m sure he is aware, Beauregard.” 

* * *

It was never Beau or Fjord or Caduceus that he was worried about, though. Well, he is always on some level a little worried about Beau, but in a very different way. 

“Nott, liebchen,” he says, as she is about to dim the light for them to go to sleep. She hasn’t said much, all evening. Has chimed in with some inevitable lewd jokes, but not much more. “What do you think of all this?” 

“Essek?” his perceptive little friend guesses immediately. “I don’t know, Caleb. He’s like, two-hundred years old and really powerful.”

“He’s barely over a hundred-” Caleb counters instinctively, before quieting as Nott stares at him skeptically. “I know.” 

“And he smells really good like,  _ all the time _ , have you ever noticed that?”

“Well, yes.” 

“It’s suspicious, nobody smells good all the time. You always step in something gross at some point.”

“Nott…”

She looks at him, with wide yellow eyes and hanging ears. “I don’t want to lose you, Caleb.” 

He shakes his head, the thought alone utterly ridiculous. “You won’t. You won’t. Of course, you won’t.” He smiles, so grateful to have her. So grateful for all the love she somehow keeps in her small body. 

“You and me. We are Caleb Widogast and Nott the brave, always.” 

“And I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says, softly, as she takes his hand and holds on to his fingers. 

“I can’t promise that, but I would also like for that not to happen.” 

“I’ll kill him! I’ll rip him to pieces!” she hisses, protectively. 

It makes Caleb laugh, despite its probable seriousness. “Let’s not agitate the dynasty over my feelings, yes?” 

“They’re more important,” Nott argues, but he can tell she’s relaxing. Letting it be. 

“We didn’t stop being us when we rescued Yeza,” Caleb tells her, as he pulls her into a hug, “Or when we met with Luke.” 

She pokes a finger against his chest, the way he has done with her so often. “You and me,” she echoes, “You absolutely promise?”

He pulls her small hand up, and places it on his own chest, over his heart. Nott sighs. 

“Fine, I approve. Not that I need to, but if you wanted approval, you have it, you know. If you wanted it.”

“Thank you, Nott.” 

“I still might trip him. Smelling good all the time. It’s bad for the immune system.”

“He floats.”

“Ah, shit. Eh, I’ll make it work.” 

* * *

An inordinate amount of time passes before he is able to see Essek again. He’s acutely aware of all of it passing, in a small part of his brain. He focuses on what he’s done ever since Trostenwald; he’s learning, and helping, and fighting. He throws himself into adventures with the Mighty Nein and feels marginally more alive and at peace after every one of them. The moments are like seconds, compared to a day, but they tick away in small moments of joy and hope anyway. 

He’s not like Jester and her ever-present optimism, or good with words like Fjord is. He can’t give advice like Caduceus does or punch straight to the truth like Beau, but he tries to be there for his friends in his own quiet way. He speaks quiet compliments to them in between the noise and stands by them in their own hardships. He even speaks to Yasha more about their- well, their similarities. He offers her his experience, despite the raw, bloody taste that it leaves on his tongue. She seems to value it, though, and that is enough. 

Still, as he fights for Nott and he protects Jester, as he throws Haste and Enlarge spells at Beau and helps Caduceus research, a quiet, slow voice in the back of his head counts the time away from Rosohna. 

But they return, eventually, to the Xhorhaus. And they’re exhausted, and a little bloody, and running completely empty. They sit in the kitchen quietly, until Nott nearly keels over and then Caleb barely manages to carry her to bed. He is barely capable of taking off his trousers before he falls into his own bed and into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

* * *

The next day, he declines Jester’s lewd offer to message Essek on his behalf and leaves the Xhorhaus to the sounds of Fjord gently talking to her about interfering in other people’s private business. 

He doesn’t wait, this time, and immediately knocks on the door of the gray-stoned main tower of Essek’s home. His heart races in his chest, full of fear and anxiety, but also with excitement and a strange sort of warmth. 

The thought that the Shadowhand might not be home enters his mind right before the door opens and he is greeted with the handsome, surprised face of Essek Thelyss.

“Caleb,” he says, slowly, “I heard of the Mighty Nein’s return I was planning to stop by soon- I…” Essek hesitates.“It is good to see you are well.”

Caleb stares at the Shadowhand for longer than is probably necessary, or appropriate. “I- hmm. I’m sorry to have been gone for so long. Things got away from us, I’m afraid, as they usually do.” 

“I can imagine they do,” he replies, with a smile Caleb would categorize as fond, “Would you like to come in?” 

“Ja. Erm- very much.” 

He follows Essek into the house and wrings his hands together nervously. What if Essek changed his mind about all of it, in the time that Caleb has been away? He takes off his coat mechanically. What if Essek has realized a well-regarded member of the Dynasty’s court shouldn’t be interested in- well,  _ him _ . 

“I trust your travels went well? Or have you discovered more cults for us to worry about?” Essek asks, and Caleb can’t tell if he’s joking or not, so he just replies in the negative by shaking his head at him. 

“Right. Good. We’re barely done dealing with the last one,” Essek continues, smiling now in a distinctly uncomfortable way. Caleb doesn’t know what to say. It’s like his tongue is suddenly made of lead and all the courage that caused him to kiss the other man last time has disappeared. He stares at a vase that is on display in a corner of the room, frowning at it as he fights with his brain over what to say.

Essek takes a deep breath. “I suppose- I suppose I know why you’ve come, Caleb.” 

Caleb looks at him, on the cusp of being relieved. Of course Essek, well bespoken and charming, will know what to say. 

“I’m aware I’m incompatible with the life of an adventurer such as yourself and your friends,” Essek says, and every word enters Caleb’s brain like a punch to the stomach, “and I understand completely. We do well in magic together, and I’d be happy to provide you with more information on Dunamancy, if you’ll allow me some of your time. I’m your steward after all, by decree of the Bright Queen, and I do not take that position lightly.” 

Essek swallows, almost noticeably, and Caleb doesn’t believe he has ever seen the shadowhand display the kind of perfect posture he has now. 

He blinks. “W-why would you be incompatible?”

Essek blinks at him in return. “You- you and your friends are heroes of the Dynasty. You fight and defeat the greatest of treats. You have secured peace between nations and I understand that you cannot waste time on me, despite…”

“Despite what?” Caleb asks, almost desperately.    
  
“Despite what I might desire.” 

Caleb gapes at him, even more at a loss for words. He shakes his head, trying to figure out where the apparent rejection ends and, somehow, Essek’s erroneous insecurity begins. Through the rose coloured veil he remembers seeing it in the Shadowhand’s eyes, but he had no idea… Though he supposes the Mighty Nein’s weeks of absence will not have helped that insecurity. 

“But I want you to be,” Caleb says, eventually. “I would so much like for you to be a part of my life.” 

Essek breathes in, shakily.

“I do not desire you for your magic. It is impressive, yes, but it is not why I’m here. And I am not here to tell you you are  _ incompatible _ , Essek. Gods, I- I’m here because you make me feel curiosity, and excitement, and many other remarkable things that have nothing to do with your position or capabilities.” Caleb swallows and says perhaps the hardest and most contradictory words of his life, “You are not a waste of time. We are busy, yes, but that is why I am here. Because I want to spend the probably limited time we have here with you.” 

Essek steps closer, as though he can’t help himself and Caleb meets him halfway. He is close enough to smell, indeed, the pleasant scent that Nott had pointed out about the Shadowhand. 

“Time is not everything,” he echoes Essek’s own words to him, “But this is me wanting to spend the little I have of it with you, doing whatever you or I might desire.”

Essek stares at him, in disbelief, for exactly six and a half seconds (Caleb is counting) and then, gently, reaches up to hold Caleb’s face in his hands. It feels tentative, still questioning, but Caleb smiles at him; a genuine, hopeful smile fueled by the support of his friends and the life he has built here and the desire he has for the man in front of him. 

And then Essek, ever so slowly, tilts his head and touches his lips to Caleb’s and Caleb gently slides his hands from Essek’s waist to his back and embraces him, pulls him closer, to the point where all of him is touching some part of Essek. Their kiss deepens. Their lips slide together as if they’ve never left each other since that first time and when Caleb opens his mouth slightly, Essek matches him immediately and their tongues slide together, wet and hot and so, so good. 

A deep and slow moan escapes Essek and Caleb is overwhelmed by pure desire. He pulls back, his thoughts tumbling over each other, to look at the man in his embrace. Essek smiles, a brilliant smile almost as white as his hair, and rests his hands on Caleb’s shoulders. 

“I think,” he manages, through the hazy desire that fogs his brain, “That we are quite compatible.” 

That seems to break Essek’s restraint, and he pulls Caleb towards him once more and Caleb loses himself in the sensation of his lips again, the feeling of their bodies pressing together and becomes the one to moan when Essek licks into his mouth and tangles his tongue with Caleb’s again. It’s a rumbling, unfamiliar sound that causes the other man to tighten his hold briefly. His hands lower, then, roaming and passing Caleb’s own as they find their way under his tunic and slide over the sensitive skin of his waist. His breath hitches at the sensation and in the place where hesitation resided only a few weeks ago, now burns a hot desire for  _ more _ . 

Caleb’s hands rise, in their turn, and fist themselves again into Essek’s long, white hair, dragging him impossibly closer. Essek bites his lower lip- as an invitation or a demand, he is not sure, but he gives in. Their mouths drag together, all hitching breaths and bruising lips and then Essek pulls away, only to attach his mouth to a spot just under Caleb’s neck. His fingers dig into the thick purple robes and he wants them off -  _ off, off!  _

He fumbles with the clasp, as the attentive mouth sucks gently at his pulse-point, and pushes it off Essek’s shoulders impatiently, frustrated by the layers of complicated Xhorhassian clothing he is wearing. Essek kisses up his jaw and Caleb catches his lips again in a searing kiss and has rarely cared so little for time or oxygen. Essek’s deft fingers come to help him with the laces of his tunic and exposes glorious, smooth lavender skin. The tunic, too, is hastily pushed off of Essek’s shoulders and Caleb breaks their kiss only so he can  _ look _ and admire the lean, angular lines of his partner’s body. 

“Wie hübsch,” he mutters, “you are... beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Essek replies, his face suddenly a slightly deeper shade of purple, “You are quite handsome yourself.”

He slowly, almost as though to allow Caleb to stop him if he wanted to - which he doesn’t - reaches for the hem of Caleb’s shirt. He raises his arms and allows the garment to be pulled over his head. Essek smiles and runs a quick hand through his now unruly red hair. 

“You look- I’ve never seen any human who looks like you,” he says and touches Caleb’s skin with something akin to reverence, and curiosity. His hand contrasts starkly with the pale skin of his stomach and Caleb shivers. 

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you, looks or otherwise,” he replies. 

Essek’s fingers splay out over his stomach and his hand slides up to rest on Caleb’s sternum. “Perhaps,” he says, “I have - A bed. Upstairs.’

“Yes,” Caleb agrees quickly, his heart racing again. He’s sure Essek can feel it almost beating through his chest. “I would- yes.”

Their fingers tangle together, as Essek turns and leads him up the strange stairs, through the library he remembers Beau describing and then, with a snap of his fingers, through one of the doors. 

Another snap of Essek’s fingers lights up the room with candlelight and reveals a grand bed with rich, soft-looking fabrics in muted, but warm colours and several thick furs, despite the presence of a fireplace in the room. A chest rests at the end of the bed, and there are several comfortable chairs in convenient positions near the candles and close to the fireplace. Caleb smiles fondly as he realizes Essek probably uses them to read in. Perhaps in here, he reads for pleasure, rather than study, though there is a desk set just next to the door.

Then, he has no more time to think, as Essek crowds him against the door he just closed and claims his mouth again. Caleb moans, meeting him enthousiastically. His hands find the soft skin of Essek’s back again, as the dunamancer’s own hands tangle in his hair, dragging him closer. Their kiss is heated, almost desperate now, as they taste, nip and explore. Before Caleb knows it, or has given his body permission to do so, he has turned them around and his hands have lowered to Essek’s thighs. The shadowhand moans as Caleb lifts him, only a short distance, up on the desk next to the door and then he is standing between Essek’s legs, with the drow’s thighs around him. It is exhilarating. 

They are both panting heavily when they break apart, eventually and Caleb isn’t too shy to admit to himself that Essek looks like he has stepped straight out of one of his naughty dreams; his lips glossy from their kissing, his pants dangerously low on his hips and his eyes bright and focussed only on Caleb. The only thing that’s missing is the bruises of kisses blooming on this neck and chest, so Caleb makes work of that immediately, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin of Essek’s neck. 

He delights in the gasps of pleasure Essek breathes into his ear as he sucks the deep purple bruises into his skin. He groans against Essek’s sharp collarbone as his fingers tighten in his hair to the point of almost-pain. 

“Please,” he sighs, tightening his thighs around Caleb and brings their clothed groins into long-awaited contact. 

“Scheisse,” he curses, as Essek does not only that, but rolls his hips against him. Pleasure blooms in his abdomen, shoots straight up his spine and he leans up to kiss Essek again desperately. His hips jerk, involuntarily and Essek moans against his lips and sucks sharply on his lower lip. Caleb is overwhelmed by the sensations and hardly struggles when Essek sits up, pushes him away and gets off the desk. He kisses and pushes at Caleb until the back of his knees hit the bed and then he pushes some more until Caleb falls backwards unto the bed. 

He doesn’t have time to process how incredibly  _ hot _ it all is, because Essek has dropped his trousers and is standing above Caleb in his full, completely bare glory. He looks as graceful and handsome as ever, despite the hickeys on his neck and chest. 

Essek preens a little, under his admiring gaze and flashes him a toothy, dangerous smile. He only has to gesture at Caleb’s trousers, before he is scrambling to get them off. It doesn’t take long, but longer than he would’ve wanted. Finally,  _ finally, _ they come off and Essek’s eyes rake over him, taking him in and despite Caleb’s immediate approval anxiety, he seems to like what he sees, as he crawls up onto the bed and over Caleb. 

Suddenly, they are touching  _ everywhere _ and Caleb groans loudly, wildly as Essek runs a hand up his thigh and then takes him in his hand. He stares, wide-eyed, up at Essek who is illuminated only by the flames of the candlelight and he looks beautiful- glowing. 

“O Gott, please,” he moans, throwing his head back as those deft fingers begin to move, stroking him. Gently, at first, as they explore him, but then more firmly as Essek’s confidence grows and Caleb rears up to meet him in another searing kiss. Their sweat-slicked bodies slide together, fit like two matching puzzle pieces, as they rut against each other.

His own hands roam, grasping at any part of Essek they can find, delighting in finding the places that make him shiver or - better yet - gasp. He inhales particularly sharply as Caleb’s fingers brush past his chest and over a dark nipple and then moans when Caleb’s nails scratch gentle marks over his back. 

“I want-” Essek moans, “Would you let me-?”

“Anything,” Caleb tells him, without hesitation and the word makes the Shadowhand close his eyes, as though he can barely bear the honesty and the desire in Caleb’s voice. 

“Would you let me have you?” he asks, despite it. 

Caleb knows what he means. Is familiar with it, from Eodwulf, from  _ before.  _ “Yes,” he says, “Please.”

Essek shivers and bends over again to kiss him, deeply, passionately. “You have never honoured me more,” he says, before he briefly leaves Caleb to retrieve something from the chest. Caleb runs cold almost immediately, but waits patiently, and is unsurprised when Essek returns with a vial of oil. He reaches for it and wraps his hand around it at the same time that his lips meet Essek’s again. 

“Let me,” he says, and then it’s his turn to push Essek down on his expensive furs. It is easy, then, to crawl over him and align their hips to the point where their lengths touch, briefly. Essek’s mouth is agape, as he stares up at Caleb, eyes full of surprise and wonder. Caleb assumes this is not how things generally go in Xhorhassian intercourse, but he cares little. 

He opens the vial and coats his fingers with the oil. Essek lets out a choked groan when he leans back and reaches between his legs. Sharp nails dig into his hips and Caleb is fairly sure Essek swears in Undercommon as he presses into himself and throws his head back at the feeling of it. It has been a very long time, but Caleb remembers and is careful. He presses first one finger gently into himself and when he is sure he is ready, a second follows. 

Essek, it appears, cannot help himself and he finds a long, oil-coated finger join his own questioningly not long after. 

“Ja, bitte,” he moans and Essek’s fingers press in alongside his and the feeling is overwhelming and exquisite at the same time. Caleb’s thighs shake as they hold him up and Essek’s fingers take over completely. 

“You are beautiful like this,” Essek says to him, almost in a whisper and he finds himself groaning unabashedly at the sensation of clever fingers sliding in and out of him at a quicker and quicker pace. 

“Please, halt. Stop, I am ready,” he says eventually, chest heaving as he looks down at Essek, who is looking back at him with that same reverence from before. Essek’s fingers slip out of him and he mourns the loss only for a moment. Then, he reaches back and finally -  _ finally _ \- touches Essek and strokes him, teasingly, for a moment. He allows himself the brief delight of seeing the other man writhe beneath him and then guides Essek to his entrance. 

Essek goes perfectly still, eyes glossy as he watches Caleb slowly lower himself onto him. As he was not of inconsiderable size, it took a moment, during which one of Essek’s hands fisted itself in an expensive sheet to the point where Caleb was fairly sure it ripped under the strain. The other was holding on to Caleb’s hand for dear life. 

It takes a few moments and a couple of deep breaths before Caleb finds himself fully seated on Essek’s cock and smiles down at him. He lifts his hips ever so slightly, before dropping them again, and Essek again lets out a stream of sharp words in Undercommon. His oil-slicked hips rock up into Caleb, making him moan at the friction. It is all a blur from there. His perfect, ridiculously gorgeous dunamancer grabs his hips and thrust up, and then again, and again, making them both cry out. 

“Yes,” he manages, as he works to match Essek’s pace, “Quite compatible.”

Essek laughs and then Caleb finds himself tumbled over onto his back, with a hot and bothered Shadowhand leaning over him. 

“I agree,” he says, and then pushes back inside Caleb. His mouth finds Caleb’s again and his earlier constraint is clearly gone, as he thrusts into him with intent. Caleb bites at his lips, demanding more, harder, faster. He doesn’t expect anything less than the other wizard’s best, as he is sure Essek expects of him so he rolls his hips back against him. 

“Ah! Caleb!” Essek groans, as they move, their bodies sliding together, connected in the very best of ways. He doesn’t take his eyes of Caleb as he grabs his thighs and fucks him even deeper, hitting something inside of him that lights his nerves up like the glass bulbs in their tree. 

He cries out Essek’s name and swears in Common, Zemnian and several other languages, grabbing at Essek’s shoulders and rocking back against him as pleasure shoots through his spine. He feels as though he is shaking apart at the seams, as Essek expertly takes him, thrusting into him with long, powerful motions. 

It’s too much and then suddenly Essek’s hand is on his cock, stroking in time with this thrusts and Caleb is  _ lost _ . The pleasure boils over with a spark of electricity that feels like magic but isn’t, and he arches his back and cries out Essek’s name. 

His orgasm rolls through him like fire through his veins and for once he fears not a single flame. 

Caleb holds onto Essek, kissing him searingly and it doesn’t take long - a few more thrusts before he chants Caleb’s name and buries his face into his neck and comes with a shudder of pleasure. 

They lie there, panting and limp, for quite some time. 

“That,” Caleb manages eventually, once Essek has rolled off of him and has pulled some of the blankets and furs over them, “Was…”

“Yes, it was.”

Caleb smiles into Essek’s shoulder and wraps an arm around Essek’s waist. He is already dozing off a little, when he suddenly lifts his head to look at his- well, lover, he supposes. 

Essek looks back at him quizzically. 

“I do not know how I will explain my absence to my friends, tomorrow.”

Essek smiles, comfortingly. 

“I have some ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and feedback are appreciated. For more wizard feelings, come say hi on Tumblr (@Dweebspace) or something!


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